Hansel: Mal Karash
“Can I take it off?” Hansel's fingertips found the edge of the mask relatively easily, now that he knew it was there. He couldn't believe he'd never noticed it before, by accident. Magic, he guessed. It would be nothing to pull it off regardless of Mishka's wishes -- he had him pinned down on the bed already -- but he wasn't positive Mishka would like that. This was still fairly new. He didn't know how to treat it, so he defaulted to careful. The ship was supposed to be empty, and the door was locked with a chair jammed under the knob for good measure, and Hansel's body would block the view of anyone who managed to get in anyway. This was as safe as Hansel could make him. So he nodded, and Hansel pulled the mask away gently, making the illusion flicker. It had occurred to him to be angry about Mishka hiding this from him -- it was such a simple, petty thing, and they were married, for fuck's sake -- but somehow it just made him sad, instead. He didn't mind that Mishka lied. He didn't even mind that he lied to him, though he knew he should. Something about the mask just made it seem like Mishka was lying to himself, and Hansel didn't like that. Mishka's cheeks flushed and Hansel realized he had just been staring at him for a while. “I don't know why you're obsessed with this,” Mishka muttered. It was a poor attempt at deflection. He really was flustered. “I've never seen my husband's fuckin’ face before, all right,” Hansel said dryly. “Let me enjoy it.” Mishka scowled. The expression had always looked a little out of place when he wore the mask, like something delicate being warped. It fit his real face better, shifting the patterns in his freckles, twisting his little scar. Hansel couldn't help grinning in response. “Look, don't act like it's unreasonable for someone to want to be attractive,” Mishka said. “I'm not acting like anything.” He was being careful not to. Yeah, his gut reaction had been that's fucking dumb, but he'd been half-drowned then. He still thought it was true, he just wasn't saying it. “Wear the mask. Do what you want. You're beautiful without it.” “Ugh. Stop talking.” Hansel laughed softly and bent to kiss him. He tossed the mask away, letting it land on the bedside table, catching Mishka's eyes dart to follow it. Still not safe enough. “Rich, coming from you,” he murmured, trying to soothe him, or at least distract him. “I … You know, I actually have some business in port before it gets dark.” He pushed at Hansel's chest. “Let me up.” Hansel thought about refusing. Mishka could get away if he really wanted to -- crack and disappear out from under him forever. He was terrified of that sometimes, still, which was probably about as fuckin’ dumb as Mishka hiding his real face. They pretended like he was in control and his weight was enough to hold Mishka down, but they both knew it was only because Mishka allowed it. It was only because Mishka liked it. “All right.” He straightened. “I'll go with you. We'll get dinner after -- what's that fuckin’ expensive place you like, the silver something?” As he shifted to the edge of the bed to search for his boots, he saw Mishka starting to say something, and cut him off before he lost his nerve to say the next part. “You can actually meet Jonn, if you want. He's livin’ in Skyport now.” “No.” Hansel snorted and didn't look at Mishka in case any bit of the hurt showed on his face. “All right, damn. You don't have to meet my kid.” “No, that's not --.” Mishka joined him at the edge of the bed. The mask was already back in his hand. “Hans, that's not what I meant. I meant -- it's private business. You can't come with me.” Hansel thought about playing the husband card, but decided to leave it alone. Mishka would always have his secrets, anyway. “It's not dangerous?” “No, not at all.” He settled the mask against his skin and it rippled away, back to perfect skin and perfect hair and perfect eyes. “All right.” He didn't know what else he could say. Mishka kissed him quickly and slipped away, and as soon as he was out of arm’s reach Hansel regretted not grabbing him and pulling him back to bed, insisting, asserting some of the dominance they played at him having. Like Mishka needed Hansel's permission to do what he wanted. Mishka paused in the doorway after moving the chair and looked back with a smile. “We'll meet up later tonight. I'll have good news.” Then he was gone. And he was lying; Hansel had no doubt he was lying, he just didn't know what about this time. He sighed. Well, he was sure it would be fine. He trusted Mishka. Category:Vignettes Category:Hansel Category:Mishka